


Solace

by HMS AUs (HMSquared)



Series: The Hounds of Vegas Universe [7]
Category: Original Work, World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: Alternate Universe - Police, Alternate Universe - Vegas, And Mike can't hold his alcohol, Backstory, Crying, Dean is VERY drunk, Drunk Sex, Drunkenness, First Meetings, M/M, Nicknames, One Night Stands, Original Universe, Pre-Slash, Prequel, Walk Into A Bar
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-07
Updated: 2020-06-07
Packaged: 2021-03-03 22:02:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 829
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24592741
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HMSquared/pseuds/HMS%20AUs
Summary: Shortly before his supposed death, Dean heads to Lucky 13 and runs into Mike.
Relationships: Dean Ambrose | Jon Moxley/Randy Orton, Dean Ambrose | Jon Moxley/The Miz
Series: The Hounds of Vegas Universe [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1401376
Kudos: 3





	Solace

24 hours before Seth ran him into the pavement, Dean found himself walking to  _ Lucky 13 _ . It had been a long day for no other reason than Hunter’s B.S., and he needed to cool off.

The bar was packed with people. Wincing, Dean pulled up his hoodie and headed over to get some whiskey.

There was a new guy behind the counter. He was in his early 30’s, it looked like, brown hair swept to the side. Dean sat down amongst all the noise and he came over.

“I don’t think I’ve seen you here before!” He had to shout over the din. The bartender smiled.

“What can I get you?”

“Whiskey, on the rocks.” He poured the drink effortlessly, causing Dean to smile. Holding the shot glass, he took a sip and nodded. “That’s good. What’s your name?”

“Mike.” He extended a hand.

“Dean.” Taking another sip, the ginger cop thought about his life. He felt tired, but not sad. Something needed to change.

“So, what do you do for a living?” Mike asked, already fixing up another shot. Dean shrugged.

“I’m a cop, not that it’s any fun.” The bartender’s face twitched, but he didn’t respond. Dean downed the whiskey and tried not to think about the tab.

“Dean?” He picked his head up off the bar. Mike was looking at him with curiosity. “It’s closing time, buddy.”

Dean blinked and looked around. The bar was empty save for the two of them. Rubbing his eyes, he muttered,

“How much…?”

“Enough that someone needs to walk you home. Probably.” There was a glass in Mike’s hands, causing him to grin.

“Drinking on the job, are we?”

“Shut up.” Dean tried to stand, slamming down a few dollar bills. He turned to go and the room tipped. 

“Spinning.” Mike rushed out from behind the bar and caught him.

“I’m taking you home.”

“Not my place.” His words were beginning to slur. “Roman doesn’t like guests.”

“He your boyfriend?” Dean let out a watery chuckle.

“Nah. He’s like a brother to me.” Mike nodded.

“I guess I can take you home.” He wrapped an arm around Dean’s shoulder and smiled. “But in the future, don’t go home with strangers.”

“Eh, you seem trustworthy enough.” They stumbled out of the bar, both drunker than they should’ve been.

Mike’s house was done in various shades of gray. Stumbling over the threshold, they walked into the living room. Dean fell onto the sofa and coughed.

“You doing okay?” Mike settled into a chair across from him. Getting out his phone, he nodded.

“Yeah.” Dean pulled up Roman’s number and typed furiously.

**_Staying at a friend’s. See you in the morning._ **

As he hit send, an image flashed onto the screen. Dean let out a tiny whimper and Mike looked up.

“You okay?”

“Sethie…” He got up and walked over, sitting down on the sofa. Dean was looking at a picture of the Shield, one from their days in Narcotics. Seth was to his right, an arm slung over his shoulder.

“He’s cute,” Mike muttered. Dean nodded, flipping to another picture. It was of Randy, back when he’d first started. The ginger cop shook his head.

“He’s not a bad guy…” Looking up at Mike, he fell into his shoulder.

“You love him?” He tearfully nodded.

“But I can’t tell him that. I’ll never get to tell him that.” Mike stared off into space, holding Dean in his arms.

“I knew someone like that. We dated for a long time, but I never…” He inhaled, trying not to cry. “I don’t think I expressed just how much I loved her.”

“Love sucks.” Dean shook his head and they both laughed. “Every guy I fall in love with, it always happens at the worst possible time.”

“I’m sorry.” Mike squeezed his shoulder, fingers tangled in Dean’s hair. They sat there for a moment, buzzing and tipsy.

There was something unspoken about them. Dean looked up, nose inches away from Mike’s.

“Mikey…”

“Yeah?”

“I think…” He shifted slightly in the older man’s grip. “I just need…”

“Yeah… Me too.” He meant it. They both did.

Mike woke up first, tangled in Dean’s arms on the sofa. The ginger was still asleep, mouth slightly open.

Reaching over, he pulled his pants on and stood up. Walking over to a shelf, Mike pulled down a book and flipped through it.

Randy’s address was scrawled there, written in a pen from the funeral. Mike dressed Dean and pulled him into the car.

His apartment was in a corner of the Strip. Getting out, Mike walked Dean forward and set him down on the front steps. Tearing out the address, he set it in the cop’s pocket and walked away.

He woke up a few minutes later. Shaking off the sleep, Dean saw the note and read it. Looking up at Randy’s door, he shook his head and stumbled away.

Not right now. Not while he was hungover.

**Author's Note:**

> It's not really clarified here, but Randy and Mike met at Maryse's funeral.


End file.
